


Maybe, Maybe Not

by Kherianne



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dry Humor, F/M, medical!Genei Ryodan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 13:30:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20931020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kherianne/pseuds/Kherianne
Summary: Hypothetically speaking, in an alternate universe, would they even work?





	Maybe, Maybe Not

In another parallel universe, maybe they wouldn't be killers.

He'd still be a performer, of course, because that's simply what he's born to be, parallel universes be damned. A circus entertainer, maybe? Too cliche. A street magician? Possibly. Perhaps a stage actor? Whatever his profession, he'd be drawing crowds in droves. There's just something in the glint in his eye, a hint of danger, a sublime promise that captivates the crowd, leaves them begging for more. His personality is magnetic, always with a slight smirk to his lips as if he finds anything and everything mildly amusing, a small, inside joke only his mind can comprehend. As with his battles in the True Universe, he performs with flair, with finesse, and drinks up the adulation of the people, basking in their flattery. The simpering fools only exist to praise him, and marvel at his greatness.

She is nothing of the sort. Even in this hypothetical universe, she is as aloof and distant as ever, keeps to herself most of the time, outwardly apathetic, serene, and just as coldly beautiful. Still, she excels in her chosen field of work. Her hands and fingers are dexterous no matter the state of the universe, it seems. For the purpose of this story, she is, however, not a seamstress. That would be too boring, too conventional. Instead, she is a surgeon, one of the best in the country and sought after by various top hospitals both local and abroad.

In such a universe, under no circumstances would they even manage to meet. Their worlds are simply too far apart, too different. But as is typical in fanfiction, a friend of a friend of a colleague has managed to obtain tickets to one of his performances which the colleague (let's call her Shizuku) absolutely must attend. She, of course, gets dragged into this event with the utmost reluctance and tries her best (or maybe not) not to look bored throughout the entire show. As it happens (because it certainly must) the tickets are VIP-tier, entitling the holder to meet the actors backstage.

I must reiterate that parallel universes work in mysterious ways but as in the True Universe, she captures his interest almost instantly; never mind that she has her arms crossed over her chest, casting him a glare so withering most men would be running for the hills. It's quite fortunate that he's not most men. Ever the perfect gentleman, he asks for her number. She flat out refuses, of course, but Shizuku is a traitor, and whips out her phone to give him the information.

He texts her immediately that night because he's never been one not to go after something he wants. Neither is he often denied of the same. She, as is the norm for cold, apathetic characters, doesn't reply for a week. He's persistent, though, she'll give him that. After one particularly grueling day at the hospital, she receives another text from him. She stares at the message on her phone (from an unnamed contact because she never bothered to save his number) and finally thinks_ what's the worst that could happen_?

He takes her to a lavish restaurant, with a view overlooking the city. She's been here a few times before and she knows the food is excellent so she can, at the very least, commend him for that. He seems interested in her and asks a lot of questions. How did she become a surgeon? What's her typical day like? Does she have any other interests? He always speaks politely, with a bit of a drawl, but she gets the impression that he is calculating, analyzing, taking her measure. The little half-smile never leaves his face. She answers in short, clipped sentences, never really offering more information than what was asked of her. He doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he seems even more determined to unravel her, peeling layer by layer. She glowers. She is not an onion.

Nevertheless, after the third date, she sleeps with him. They were in his penthouse, where he'd had a private chef prepare a four-course meal for them. After the sumptuous dinner, they're both at ease, sipping wine, with Hisoka standing near the floor-to-ceiling glass windows on one side of the room, and she lounging on his elegant, beige divan. He loosens his tie, pops the top two buttons of his dress shirt, and she eyes the tiny patch of skin just above the collarbone. 

She attributes it to the wine, just to have something to blame. It doesn't matter that she's not even halfway through her second goblet. That's not the point. She also justifies that she needs to de-stress and he's available. So she makes her way over to him, tugs him down by his shirt and decides to ignore the sharp flash of victory in his half-lidded eyes. 

Maybe it's a bit of an exaggeration to say that she'd rather die (or murder him first) than let him touch her in the True Universe, but it isn't exactly far from the truth. But since this is a different universe, hypothetically speaking, another version of her may freely choose to instigate this interlude with him, rather than the other way around, which is more common in fanfiction. But whatever the case, it is always by her own choice, on her own terms.

If they ever actually fuck in canon (the unlikelihood of which probably even eclipses the chances of me winning the national lottery), it would presumably contain some (or all) of these elements: clothes torn in a frenzy, hot, feral, _devouring_ kisses, nails raked across pale skin (possibly drawing blood), indecent use of nen for bondage (among other things), and wild, animalistic thrusting culminating in a mind-numbing orgasm. However, it can also be imagined that upon penetrating her for the first time, Hisoka pauses, savoring the moment of her complete surrender (or more likely, simply reveling in the feel of her tight pussy squeezing his cock). As it happens, quite a number of these elements occur shortly after Machi drags him to his bedroom because even in a parallel universe, there is a simmering passion underneath that cold, emotionless facade just waiting to be unleashed under the right circumstance. 

Still, mind-numbing orgasm or not, she doesn't stay the night and Hisoka merely clicks his tongue in mild disapproval.

They don't see each other for a couple of weeks after that, though he texts her occasionally. Sometimes, she sends back a curt response. Most of the time, there's simply radio silence. She's busy at the hospital, and he has a new show to prepare for and it's not like either of them have really defined what their relationship is. As far as Machi is concerned, there isn't one, anyway. She prefers to keep it that way.

So when Hisoka purposefully strides along the stark, white-painted halls of the sixth floor of the Genei Ryodan General Hospital, Machi completely misses the number of heads turning as the famed performer deliberately makes his way towards her like he owns the place. In fact, she doesn't see him until the very last minute, given that her back is to him, and she's currently engaged in an intellectual debate with none other than the hospital director himself, Chrollo. For in what universe would Machi _ever_ be someone's subordinate other than Chrollo's?

Machi is seldom (if ever) shocked, but upon seeing him, the flash of said emotion passes through her eyes, hidden almost immediately underneath her usual mask of affectlessness. She never told him where she worked, and her schedule is so erratic, even _she_ can't predict where she'll end up by the end of the day. It was a feat he found her at all. The look does not escape her boss, who settles his dark gaze on the newcomer. Hisoka returns the stare with equal intensity.

It's like static electricity. 

Perhaps it's intuition. Or perhaps old grudges and soul-wrenching betrayals transcend through space and time between parallel universes. Still, the effect is the same. Someone could probably slice through the tension in the air with a butter knife. That is, until Hisoka drawls, "Pardon the intrusion, but could I steal Machi for a minute?"

Not wanting to make a scene, especially in front of Chrollo, she's forced to grit her teeth and make hasty introductions before excusing herself and directing the full force of her ire on the infuriating bastard. "What are you doing here?" She hisses.

"I came to pick you up. You're off in about—" he makes a show of checking his expensive Ulysse Nardin— "five minutes. And I know for a fact that you have no plans tonight."

It takes a bit of coaxing, some cajoling and a little bribery but eventually, Machi agrees to go with him, despite grumbling through the whole process. He finds it fascinating that she doesn't ask, nor even appears to care, how he knows so much about her schedule. When he mentions this, she replies, "I don't care because I can take care of myself." Translation: if he turns out to be a stalker or some such miscreant, she will absolutely destroy him.

This particular revelation brings another grin to his face, to which Machi takes offense. She makes him pay for it some hours later by sitting on his face. Hisoka doesn't mind in the least.

The news spreads like wildfire throughout the hospital. Inherently, the denizens of this universe recognize how utterly rare it is for Machi to even give the time of day to anyone, much less be in a sort-of relationship— and with a distinguished actor, no less (though his notoriety most likely stems from other, less-savory rumors of his... um... fetishes). Shalnark from IT reportedly sent security footage of the event to a few select individuals, while Phinks from urology supposedly laughed his ass off, pitying the poor idiot who caught her interest. (Not that he knew it was Hisoka, at the time.) All the way from the morgue, Feitan merely raised a brow and went back to poking the corpse on his table. Shizuku is only too happy to repeat the story of how they met. To Machi's knowledge, the tally had jumped from three to sixteen by lunch the following day. Not that she kept count. Please.

Only Pakunoda expresses some form of concern directly to Machi regarding the less than favorable reputation of her... companion (for lack of a better term).

All of this annoys Machi, as expected, but her best defense is to ignore everything, as is the norm with her, anyway. However, there is only so much that even she can tolerate.

When images of her face are splashed across the internet from some upstart paparazzi announcing Hisoka's "mysterious woman", she decides that whatever this is, it's more trouble than it's worth. She calls it off (via text, of course, because it's the quickest, most efficient method and she can't be bothered to expend excess effort).

He is none too pleased about it but there's simply no changing her mind once it's made up. (Downright stubborn. He likes that about her, too.)

The resolution to this problem in this specific universe does not come in the form of some grand romantic overture on his part, or an impromptu epiphany on hers, neither of which particularly conform to either of their personalities. Rather, after a prolonged length of time (only slightly shorter than Togashi's hiatuses) of not seeing or communicating with each other, she is called away to attend a medical conference in Hawaii where, as luck (or fate) would have it, he is also doing a show.

After the conference, she's enjoying dinner with some colleagues when a waiter materializes at her elbow, clutching a bottle of Richebourg Grand Cru. _Courtesy of the gentleman over there_, the waiter intones and Machi's eyes are compelled to follow the direction of his gesture until her lavender gaze is met with an intense, golden stare.

Several events may, or may not have occurred after this. Machi could have simply glared back and ignored him for the rest of the night, effectively snuffing out any hope of reconciliation. Or Hisoka could have approached their table, undeterred by the presence of her colleagues, and asked her out to dinner the following night. Or, perhaps she might even be feeling particularly ill-willed towards him, excusing herself from the table and making her way over to his, only to give him a scathing piece of her mind. 

My personal favorite is that he simply waits for her to finish dinner and catches her outside where he knows she's waiting for him some time after her colleagues have left. Nothing much is said, but she doesn't go back to her hotel that night, or the succeeding nights thereafter until the end of the trip.

To tell the truth, there is no shortage of possible events that could have taken place that evening; it's really all conjecture. After all, at the end of the day, this is merely a hypothetical universe.

**Author's Note:**

> Probably the closest I'll ever get to writing a romantic comedy for this pair. It was a lot of fun to write and my favorite work to this date.


End file.
